Roseanne hadn't experienced the rush of doing manual labor in forever.

Living with Murray for those years, she didn't have the maids waiting on hand and foot, but she steered clear of any heavy lifting. Even in the early days, when Murray's startup was getting off the ground when money was tight, they still had a cleaning lady come weekly for the house chores.

After finishing a can of paint, Roseanne stretched her aching back. Being pampered for years had made her soft. She went to the hallway, planning to bring in the rest of the paint.

But, in her haste, she knocked over the can. Though she acted quickly, a small spill still spread on her next-door neighbor's doorstep. She grabbed a mop instantly, but as she was halfway through cleaning, the previously shut door suddenly opened.

Their eyes met, and as she was about to apologize, she found herself face-to-face with a familiar person.

"You live here?"

"Owen?"

spoke at the

feet, then back

such a coincidence. "As you can

live there because it was close to the lab and university, making it convenient for teaching students and

because of the lack of an elevator, which wouldn't be a first choice for the younger

he was upset about the spill in the hallway. "Sorry about the mess with the paint. I'll have it cleaned up in

trash by Owen's side as she headed downstairs. "I'm heading down. Let me take

Roseanne smiled. "Thanks."

morning, Roseanne had refreshed all the peeling paint in her apartment. It looked clean and orderly in no time. Later, she picked a new sofa

around. The warm glow of the lamps transformed the

on the bed, which smelled faintly of laundry detergent after a day in

afternoon were lined up by

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